


To Have and to Hold

by Scavenge4Dreams



Series: Heartfelt and Otherwise [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Schmoop, Series, Smarm, Sweet, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scavenge4Dreams/pseuds/Scavenge4Dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Enterprise runs out of painkillers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Have and to Hold

**To Have and To Hold**

Leonard pressed back in his seat, arms extended above his head, knuckles cracking and joints popping as he stretched. He yawned deeply as he leaned forward into the artificial brightness that glowed outward from his data tablet, infiltrating the sticky dimness of his deliberately darkened office; with spending so much time under the stark, insensitive white lights of the infirmary, the slightly duller atmosphere of his office was always welcome.

One hand lazily scratching at his stomach, the other came up to trail the path of his tired eyes as they scanned down the list blackly embossed against the white screen.

The current 'medical supply quantities' glared back at him; medications, hypo's, scrubs, gloves and a myriad of other necessary item's that had taunted him with the faint worry of having dwindled to frighteningly low supply. It was almost twice as short as any previous requirements list; the result of having missed their scheduled resupply.

Saurian XI, a small backwater planet on the outer most flank of federation space had requested help with their latest planet wide plague, pleading for medications and food. Enterprise, being the generous, sacrificing ship they were, had given everything they could possibly spare, dropping back to the bare minimum legally required on board, and perhaps slightly below.

Admittedly, the riskiness of their actions was diminished by the knowledge that they were due to resupply with the Red Cross ship 'Arcturus' in two days' time.

Only 'Arcturus' had apparently had similar thoughts – Assuming (from the minimal specific request list from Enterprise) that the ship maintained the majority of its medical supplies, they had also donated all but the very basic necessities to the Saurian race.

The result having been an urgent red flagged request to Starfleet command for a 'full restock of all medical supplies ASAP', which was their current mission objective.

Rubbing the tightness from his eyes, Leonard saved the updated list and switched off the glowing screen that had illuminated his office for the past 15 hours. Getting to his feet he shook out the cramps and muscle tightness in his shoulders and thighs and glanced at the time piece above his door.

With 4 of his staff down with the flu and another with the remnants of a broken wrist, Leonard and two other doctors as well as a handful of nurses had been keeping the infirmary operating, each taking longer than allowable shifts. It was detrimental to their lifestyles as well as their sleep patterns, but no other option had been viable.

And of course Leonard himself insisted on taking the lions share.

Officially his monster shift had finished 15 minutes ago, and in all honesty, Leonard was more than ready for a hot shower, a pick me up of the alcoholic variety and a soft bed.

He'd throw in a warm body; specifically a warm, golden haired, blue eyed infuriating as hell body, but knew that Jim was just starting his own shift.

Naturally, he and his…well… he refused to say 'boyfriend', lover didn't seem to cover it and soul mate seemed too…contrived…but regardless…he and Jim worked completely opposing shifts roughly 30% of the time, overlapping shifts most of the time and about once a month they had a week in which their shifts paralleled each other perfectly.

During the week that they paralleled each other, Jim termed it their 'normalcy' week – they both woke up in the morning, went to their respective jobs, finished at the same time, ate dinner together and spent the evenings togethers; reading, watching vids, talking, tormenting, teasing,  _sleeping together_ and sleeping together.

The rest of the month they were lucky to steal two minutes with each other, but they worked with what they had.

Flicking his office light off and closing the door behind him as he left, Leonard nodded to a rather refreshed looking Dr Montague and with one last glance over the unoccupied infirmary, exited into the hall, headed for the tantalising call of his bed.

The turbo lift took him two levels up and as the door slipped open silently he tugged himself from his exhausted slump against the wall and headed for his room at the far end of the corridor.

He passed the captains quarters, trailing his fingers across the door, but knew it had been empty for the past 20 minutes, he sighed, and tried to quell his un-voiced desire for the comforting presence of his exuberant lover.

Leonard had just reached his door and was reaching to key in his open command when the Comm wrapped about his wrist buzzed against his skin. Groaning, for an instant he considered ignoring it, but knew that his conscience would never forgive him should it turn out to be serious.

Raising his hand he answered gruffly, "McCoy…"

The static buzzed for second in his ear and then Spock's tinny voice replied, "Doctor…The Captain is 17.9 minutes late for his shift…are you informed as to his whereabouts?"

Leonard breathed through his teeth, mind pulling from its sluggish mire and firing up again, a hint of concerned adrenaline energising him better than 10 hours of sleep and a gallon of caffeine.

Jim wasn't late to his shift.

Not the Jim with the 105.2 temperature, nor the Jim with a broken leg and a concussion.

"No…as far as I knew he was already up there…you don't have any idea where he was earlier today?"

Leonard also heard the unspoken concern in Spock's voice, not as an actual verbal inflection but in the literal sense of the words. No way had Spock actually chosen to wait 17.9 minutes until informing someone of Jim's missing status…Leonard would bet that the hobgoblin had intended to wait 20 minutes and then go for help, but his concern had won over.

He broke out of his thoughts as Spock answered, "Negative…neither I, nor any other current bridge crew member recalls seeing him today."

Leonard's mild concern spiked…Jim was an inherently social creature…that he hadn't been seen all day… "…I'll find him…"

Spock replied over the Comm almost immediately, "As I intended…Inform the captain I shall cover his shift…"

Leonard agreed, hiding the growl at the Vulcan's unsmug smugness and immediately wheeled around, heading back up the corridor, muttering under his breath.

_I swear to god Jim, if you've deprived me of my sleep by getting lost in the Jefferies tubes again…._

He fell silent as he reached Jims door and knocked firmly, twice.

After receiving no answer the second time, he pulled one of his favourite CMO perks…being able to override his partners command lock.

The door slid open with a soft  _snick_ and Leonard stepped into the room and was engulfed in inky blackness as the door closed behind him.

Not daring to move lest he trip over one of Jims discarded boots or stepped on a data pad, Leonard demanded, "Lights", and just like that the room was illuminated in brilliant white light.

The empty room.

The bed was still a mess from the previous night, the covers tangled in a way that Leonard knew Jim had tossed and turned, rather than his usually peaceful sleep when they were together.

There was half a cup of water on the table and Jims gold command top dribbled messily from a chair to the floor, puddling against the soft carpet.

Jim's desk was piled high and haphazardly with masses of half organised paper and data pads, his lovers glasses were hooked over the picture frame containing one of their favourite images.

Shaking his head at the strangely out of place feeling, Leonard turned back towards the door, ready to extend his search further, when a flash of something odd caught his eye in the small living area.

The holo-vid was off, the curtain pulled across the viewing glass that looked out into galaxies far away. It was as normal as it ever was, and yet Leonard stared, trying to pinpoint…

_There…_

The toes of one polished black boot peeking out between the back and the left arm of the generous three seater couch.

Leonard blinked; gut churning with a sudden indescribable terror as he dropped heavily to his knees beside the couch, unable to remember taking the six or seven paces around the sofa. Ignoring the cushions strewn onto the floor, Leonard took in the appalling form of his lover.

Jim was flat on his back, eyes so tightly clenched that little tendrils of blue could be seen blossoming from the corners, as blood vessels bruised. His hands were threaded into the golden blond crop at his temples, pulling to the point of almost being ripped out by the roots. His whole body was rigid, beyond tense; every muscle coiled so far into himself that he near vibrated with the strain.

Skin as pale as snow, grey tinged and blotchy against the dark fabric of the seat and sweat covered; his black undershirt wet to the touch, drops beading across his brow and upper lip, dripping into the hollow of his throat.

Pain.

Leonard recognised the signs of terrible all-consuming pain, beyond what a body could deal with.

"Jim" was murmured with a strange mix of question, comfort, sympathetic horror and concern.

Leonard pulled himself from his ankles to his knees, leaning forward over Jim, eyes scanning from the top of Jims head to his boot encased feet, searching for a hurt, an injury…something he could  _fix._

His hands ghosted along in their wake, gently running his finger across Jims face, over his scalp, his neck and shoulders, arms, hands, chest… he lifted the black shirt, revealing a pale, sweaty stomach, but no tell-tale bruising or abnormalities… no swelling or tenderness of the groin, each leg whole, unblemished by blood or deformity…the boots concealing his feet, but they themselves showing no evidence of damage.

Leonard could find nothing wrong.

He was just getting up to Comm the infirmary, desperate to  _stop Jim's suffering_ , even if he had to drug him into oblivion to do so, when a thought…no a memory, swept across his conscious ness like a fleeting breeze and he grasped to catch it.

" _For god's sake Jim! No one takes the Kobayashi Maru twice…let alone a third time! And no one actually passes the thing!"_

" _Exactly! I'm going to take it again….and this time I'm going to pass...Just call me no one!"_

" _Fine…be your usual idiotic self…but don't expect me to be there when you embarrass yourself again!"_

" _But Bones…you have to be there .I need you up in the black with me…who else will fix my bruised and battered body after I get it on with the Klingons or save me from deadly solar radiation or banish my killer migraines or buy me back from intergalactic sex rings or rescue me from the multiple fearsome space monsters that we will no doubt encounter or…"_

" _Enough! Fine…I'll go to your stupid test…Fuck'n simulators as close to space as you'll get me anyway…you'll have to find some other bleeding heart asshole to save your hide in the black…."_

The memory faded out, ignored as being completely irrelevant to the current situation.

Except one phrase…

_Killer Migraines._

Eyes clenched, face twisted, hands fisting against his temples, pale, sweaty, rigid with strain.

_Tension migraine._

Lenard immediately covered Jim's eyes with his hand, hissing "lights 5%", dimming the room to a candle light glow.

_Jim suffered from migraines and Leonard, his best friend, lover, CMO and personal doctor had no clue._

It baffled the best friend.

Hurt the lover.

Pissed off the CMO and doctor.

Shoving that bafflement, hurt and fury to the back of his mind for now, Leonard latched onto a different thought…he'd had no clue, which meant Jim was managing it, which meant medication; he leapt to his feet and rushed for the small bathroom cabinet.

He rifled through the meagre contents… _razor, soap, condoms, aftershave, condom, deodorant, toothpaste, half a biscuit (?), Condom…_ but no pill bottles, hypo sprays (yeah right!) or medication of any kind.

He hurried back into the main room, leaning down to try and get Jim's attention, "Jim! Jim…where are your meds…what is it… _Mexacillia_?  _Mexomorphin_?... Where is it!?"

Jim of course, didn't answer, didn't even make a noise.

Leonard began silently running through his meagre and dwindling supply in the infirmary:

_Deramilon – Allergic_

_Meranephrin – Not strong enough_

_Leferon – Allergic_

_Cedraderon – Very Allergic_

There was nothing he could use…they only had the bare basics in painkillers left…stuff suitable for a stubbed toe or broken finger…and if it was strong enough to at least take the edge off Jim was deathly allergic to it.

If he had to guess what Jim would have been taking; what he himself would have prescribed Jim, it would be one of the Mex derivatives,  _Mexacillia_ ,  _Mexylerin, Mexocylerin, Mexycyc…_

_Mexycyclecien_

_A week ago Cadet Reimers had half amputated his arm in an engineering SNAFU, and had been brought to the infirmary, arm pissing blood, refusing to pass out, in extraordinary pain and allergic to every anaesthetic McCoy had left._

_None of the painkillers he had were strong enough to operate under and McCoy had been stumped…until a conveniently misplaced, uncatalogued box of Mexycyclecien had suddenly appeared._

"Goddamn'it Jim, I'm going to fucking kill you!"

It was immediately apparent what had happened, and quite frankly, Leonard wasn't at all surprised.

"Stupid generous asshole!"

Mexycyclecien was one of the strongest painkillers on the market, more than enough to put Jim Kirk, idiot extraordinaire, out like a light for 16 hours in the event of a migraine…although Leonard knew that Jim would only have taken enough to make the migraine manageable, preferring to suffer than be incapacitated.

Leonard also knew that there was none left on board.

That there was absolutely nothing left on board that could help.

Nothing…except Leonard.

Moving closer, Leonard stood from his half crouch to kneel with one knee on the edge of the seat, the other foot steady on the ground. He reached up, wrapping long fingers gently around delicately boned wrists and tugged carefully, but Jim was holding steadfast, rigid against his pressure.

"Jim…let go…I can help….let go…just let go…I'm here…" Leonard wasn't sure if he was still talking about Jim's grip on his hair, but it seemed to work regardless, his hands and arms remained rigid but he allowed Leonard to pull them from his face, placing them at his sides.

Leonard pulled himself fully onto the couch, stretching his solid weight out across Jim, his left leg tight against the back of the couch and his right pressing down between Jims, he settled chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis…slowly relaxing, blanketing the slighter from of his lover.

He could feel Jims hands fisted at his side, and reached up to place his own hands in a parody of Jim's previous position; sinking his fingers into Jims hair, palms settling at his temples, thumbs high on Jims forehead just where the hairline started, his fingers spread wide across the rest of Jim's skull, little fingers pressing into the hollow behind his earlobes.

And then he pressed.

Firm pressure spread across the entirety of both hands, sunk a little way into waxen skin, possibly leaving bruises.

And the pain spiked.

Jim bucked up against him once, a hissed, broken cry escaping his teeth as pain beyond imagining encompassed his skull. He writhed weekly, trailing off to a keening whimper as Leonard hummed against his throat, murmuring apologies and comfort.

It seemed like eternity to Leonard and even longer to Jim, but several moments later Jims severely strained body, every muscle pulling an opposite way suddenly relaxed as the pain fled and he slumped back into the sofa.

Deathly still, slack, waxen.

"Jim...Jim sweetheart?"

A heartbeat later and nothing, Leonard started to pull back, horrified.

The instant he moved Jim lunged towards him violently, arms reaching around his chest to circle him in a hold of epic proportions.

Leonard relaxed back into Jim's chest, soothing him when he felt the arms around him tighten in panic at his movement. Looking down, Jims face was still pinched, pale; eyes screwed shut against light and pain that no longer lingered.

He flattened back sweaty locks of tangle blond fringe, mapped his fingers gently across the expressive face below him, smoothing out lines and creases until only pale skin, unblemished remained.

He pressed a kiss to soft lips and Jim finally cracked open a darkly bruised eye.

Leonard almost drowned in the turbulent myriad of blue…wanting to stare forever…instead he pressed a kiss just below the thick black lashes. He watched as the other opened and blue eyes watered, Jim valiantly blinking back tears as the emotional response to pain he couldn't process fought for release.

Another kiss to warm lips and Jim melted against him, hiding his face but not able to conceal the scalding path his tears took as they dripped onto Leonard's neck. Leonard pulled back, turning Jim's face to his, kissing away the tears that welled and slowly fell as Jim finally relaxed, rasping out a soft 'b- _ones…_ '

Over the course of the next hour the tears slowed and stopped, the tight grip loosened to a loose hold and Leonard held him close, sheltered, safe.

Finally Jim's body softened to the point of sleep; exhaustion and fatigue tearing at his wakefulness, and he snuffled sleepily, turning in Leonards embrace.

Leonard smiled affectionately and pulled his reluctant body from its strangely comfortable position, knowing that if he fell asleep on the couch he'd hardly be able to move come morning, and Jim would still be feeling the after effects of his migraine and so he levered himself to his feet, hands sliding from Jims waist along his arms to his hands tugging gently.

"Come on Jim…bed…you'll thank me in the morning…up…" he trailed off as Jim muttered half asleep and turned toward the back of the couch almost reefing Leonard of his own feet when Jim didn't let go of his hands.

Sighing with exasperated love Leonard capitulated and breathing deep he pulled Jims half limp body upright, trying to urge him to walk the few steps to the bed.

No such luck – the captain all but dripped to the ground in lethargic drunkenness.

Leonard took a deep breath muttering  _"The things I do…"_ as he hefted Jim up and into his arms.

Jim was a little shorter and quite a bit lighter than Leonards own frame, but still a full grown deadweight and Leonard huffed as he turned to the bed, arms screaming from the unaccustomed weight.

Jim, as aware as always just sighed and turned to snuffle at his neck.

"Goddamn you weigh a tonne…" he spoke to the room in general, muttering below his breath.

He didn't hear most of Jim's muffled, garbled response but did feel the teeth that nipped at the tender skin of his collar bone and he jerked, almost dumping Jim on his ass, "You little fucker!… _want_  me to damn well drop you?!"

He almost dropped Jim for a completely different reason when the softly replied ' _no…_ ' was accompanied by the warm tongue across the abused skin.

He dropped Jim onto the bed, pressed a kiss to upturned lips as he spoke, "Apology accepted… sleep time…"

Jim had only managed to get the word, "But…" out when Leonard cut him off with another kiss, replying "Yeah…no…you sleep, I sleep…end of story"

And Jim, hearing the steel in his lover's voice accepted with only a pout.

Leonard stripped Jim's boots, pants and shirt off and wandered into the bathroom; two minutes later he was sonic cleaned and bearing a washcloth to wipe the grime from Jim's cool skin.

He dumped the cloth and returned with a glass of water and two light painkillers which he held out to Jim.

And there it was.

The mulish stubborn look of being too coddled.

Jim Kirk Specialty number 4.

Sure enough…"Aw, come on Bones! I'm okay now…it was just a heada-"

And then Leonard was in his face, hands on either side of his head, faces inches apart, anger radiating off him… "Headache my ass! Fuck Jim, why didn't I know? You could have had an aneurism or a stroke! But it's 'just a headache'!-…."

"I love you"

It succeeded in shutting Leonard up, staring down at Jim calculatingly…and then he sighed, sat back and handed Jim the pills again. "Just take them… and don't think we won't be talking about this later!"

Jim dry swallowed the tablets and chased them with the water, slumping back as he watched Leonard return the cup to the kitchenette.

"God help me…now move over…"

Jim did so and Leonard slid into the bed beside him and stared down at the two foot gap between them.

Sighing he reached across and dragged Jim towards him, "Get over here…" Jim curled against his waist, one arm across Leonard's abdomen the other flung out behind him, his head resting against Leonard's ribcage. Leonard pulled him closer as he spoke again, "I love you too…now go to sleep you idiot."

Leonard reached for his Comm and buzzed the bridge.

" _Spock…_ "

"Spock…please have Nyota add Mexycyclecien to our medical supplies request list and flag it as urgent…"

" _Affirmative Doctor…I can assume the Captain is in a satisfactory condition?"_

Leonard looked down to where Jim's hooded blue eyes gazed up at him, the younger man pressing a butterfly light kiss to his side, fingers threading through the sparse hair at Leonards navel.

Carding his own fingers through Jims golden mop Leonard answered.

"He's fine Spock…just fine…"

 


End file.
